Inklife
by UnNaMeAbLeNeSs9700
Summary: When Dustfinger receives a message that his younger daughter has returned from the realm of Death and is waiting for him in the Castle of Night, he makes a decision that leads him right into a trap, and a new conflict in turn. Will the rumor of his daughter's return be true? And what is the Adderhead's widow planning? -takes place two years after Inkdeath-
1. Prologue: Beautiful Words

**Disclaimer: Characters and locations found in the Inkworld Trilogy belong to Cornelia Funke, not us. We only own the characters we create. :)**

 **A/N: Updates on our writing progress and a few little extras can be found on our Twitter and Instagram pages. Links for those are found on our profile page. Thank you. :)**

 ** _Prologue_**

 _Beautiful Words_

" **Life is made of so many moments that mean nothing.**

 **Then, one day, a single moment comes along to**

 **define every second that comes after."**

 **~ Sabaa Tahir; An Ember in the Ashes**

The dungeons of the Castle of Night were cold and damp. Orpheus stood in the furthest cell from the narrow entrance, a piece of parchment clutched in his plump, milk-white hands. He practically buzzed with excitement as he glanced back at the ornately dressed young woman behind him. The queen of Argenta. He was about to perform his greatest work of art yet for her.

The reader smiled proudly as he read the words he had written out loud, tasting each one of them on his tongue.

 _And Death spoke with the reader, pleased by the beautiful words he had written. He told her of the plan he and the lovely queen had thought up, working out the details tirelessly for nights on end, their plan to borrow a life from Death. While the reader specialized with bargaining for life, borrowing was something he had never done, but they did need the girl they wished for for so long._

 _Death agreed to their plan and the queen and her reader set the wheels in motion. They sent a lock of hair to the farms of Ombra and the Fire-Dancer, Dustfinger, fell into their trap. He traveled to the castle of silver and was bound in the cleverly spun trap, never to see the light of day again._

When he looked up from the words he so brilliantly wrote, standing before him were three of Death's white women. On the shoulder of the closest one sat a golden . with a blood stained breast. He had heard of the forms Death could take from the minstrels lately. Mortimer had probably been telling stories somewhere.

Between the two white women in the back stood the child in question, he assumed. Her small hands wrapped around the fingers of Death's daughters and she stared ahead with not a glimmer of emotion at the situation.

"Death," Orpheus said, giving a dramatic bow. This was the first time he had met her face-to-face and he wished to impress such a powerful being. "I have a proposition for you."

"I do not often bargain my souls, Orpheus," Death answered simply.

"But you see, I will reward you with two souls for the one you let me borrow," he said. "In the end, you will have lost none and gained two."

The bird was quiet as if contemplating what had been said and the worth of the soul in question. Finally, she gave in.

"You have one month," Death told him. "If you do not hold to your end of the deal, I will take the one I lost and will claim yours as well when you least expect me."

Death's threat barely fazed the arrogant reader as his confidence in his words had risen to new heights when he discovered how to summon Death and make her deals. As the white women faded along with their mistress, the child seemed to materialize before them.

The child blinked a few times before her dark gaze fixed on the people in front of her. Her eyes widened as she frantically looked around. Where was she? And where were her parents? How did she even get here in the first place?

Tears formed in the girl's eyes, but Orpheus took no notice. He simply drew the knife from his belt and approached her, but he did not attack her. No. She was far too precious for that. His knife, instead, cut through a black curl at her cheek.

He walked back to drop the lock of dark hair into the hand of the maid, whose eyes, he noticed, were fixed unblinkingly on the little girl.

"Have this sent to the Fire-Eater as proof," he told her, "and tell him what I want in return."

With those words still lingering in the air, he had the dungeon cell locked up and left, the queen soon following behind. The handmaiden wrapped her fingers carefully around the small lock of hair, glancing at the frightened little girl. She wished she could comfort the poor thing, but there was no way she could while Orpheus and the queen were still so close.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to turn towards the exit, tightening her grip on the lock of hair, determined not to lose it so the child wouldn't have to endure more fear than she had to. She hoped no trouble would come to the girl, but she wasn't sure how much of her wish would be granted


	2. Chapter One: An Impossible Miracle

**Chapter One**

 **An Impossible Miracle**

" **From now on, wherever you walk, I will walk with you."**

 **~Moonrise; Erin Hunter**

Dustfinger took a deep breath, glancing up at the blazing sun with a slightly annoyed expression. It was much too hot to be out in these fields all day; he still didn't understand how Roxane and Jehan did it without an ounce of complaining even after two years of working side by side with them. But he bent back over the rows of herbs without a word. He would work in the heat for days on end with no break if he had to as long as Roxane was beside him.

Hardly any time had passed before the muted sound of horses' hooves drew the attention of the small family. As Dustfinger straightened up, he could see two horses, each with a rider on its back. They were still too far off to see very clearly, but the glinting silver armor worn by one rider, along with the smaller form wearing a dress, was still visible even from this distance.

Before Dustfinger could say anything, Roxane tucked her basket under her arm and looked back at him and Jehan with a small smile.

"Come on Jehan," she said, knowing Dustfinger would follow without request. "Let's go see your sister."

As Jehan ran off after his mother, a smile growing on his face, Dustfinger followed close behind, dusting his hands off while he walked. He lengthened his stride to match Roxane's, his muscles tensing as differences between this female rider and their daughter became apparent. This young woman had brown hair worn tight on her head, unlike Brianna, whose fiery locks were still worn loose even though she'd worked for Violante for seven years now.

Roxane quickly grabbed Jehan's hand, pulling the boy between herself and Dustfinger as they reached the gate separating themselves from the newcomers, noticing the differences in the riders as well. The goose sounded its loud alarm as the two riders rode to a stop on the opposite side of the gate.

"What is your business here?" she asked, looking at the visitors cautiously as she pushed Jehan behind her and Dustfinger.

Dustfinger stood beside his wife silently as the woman took a deep breath as if bracing herself for something before slowly sliding off the back of her horse.

In her hands, she clutched a small envelope, holding on to it as if it was the one thing keeping her between life and death.

"Are… you Dustfinger?" She asked softly, looking him over hesitantly as if she really didn't want to speak to him.

Dustfinger saw Roxane turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye, a confused look on her face. He frowned at the young woman's words, looking from her face to the envelope in her hands and back again. He had never seen this woman in his life, he was quite sure if that; at least, not enough to recognize her. Still, he nodded in response, shooting a cautious look towards the guard.

The woman hesitated once more, glancing down at the envelope in her hands before looking back up, her gaze stopping before it met his.

"I'm a handmaiden to the Queen of Argenta," she said quietly. "She has sent me here under orders to deliver this to you."

Dustfinger hesitated to take the envelope that she now held out to him, almost impatiently now as if she wanted to get rid of it as quickly as possible. Finally, he took the envelope from her, slowly turning it over and opening it.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise at the object that his fingers touched though his expression quickly turned to one of confusion as he pulled it out and allowed it to rest in his palm. A single lock of black hair; what was this supposed to mean to him? He looked questioningly at the handmaiden as Roxane stepped closer to examine the contents of the envelope, neither understanding what message the Queen was trying to send.

"Her - her majesty said to tell you that they have your daughter," the handmaiden explained, a guilty expression on her face. "And that if you wish to have her returned to you, you'll come back to the castle with us."

He glanced down at the lock of hair in his palm, his frown deepening. It was black; the only daughter with black hair that he had ever had was one that had been gone from his life for years and from this world for almost as many. His lips parted to reply that there was no way; that she and her escort could just head back to where they had come from, bearing disappointing news for their queen, but the woman interrupted before he could get a word out

"I've seen her," she said softly. She must have been able to see the disbelief on his face. She nodded towards Roxane as she continued, "she looks quite a bit like this woman here."

She paused for a moment, meeting Dustfinger's gaze for the first time. "I know what you're thinking, but she _is_ there. When I left, she was quite frightened by the strange people and surroundings. I'm sure she would be happy to see her father right now."

For a long moment, Dustfinger said nothing. He looked down at the small lock of hair, rubbing his thumb over it as he tried to wrap his mind around her words. There was only one person who could have done this - no, _would_ have done this for the Queen of Argenta.

"Did that Orpheus take up residence in your Queen's castle?" he asked quietly, not looking up at her.

"Yes, he did," the handmaiden replied, nodding. "I'm not sure how he did it, but suddenly the little girl was there without a single argument from Death."

He said nothing in reply as he took a deep breath before looking over at Roxane. He was nearly positive that this was just a trap with a very well-constructed lie in order to lure him to the castle, but he couldn't risk even the smallest possibility of missing the chance to have his youngest child back in his arms.

"Alright," he agreed, looking back at the handmaiden. "I'll come."

A long moment of silence passed before Roxane moved to stand in front of him, blocking his way through the gate.

"You can't do this," she said with a shake of her head. "What she says… it can't be true. I tried, Dustfinger. I tried everything. If Death wished her released, she'd be back by now. This is a trap, Dustfinger; a cruel trap by the Queen. You can't go."

Dustfinger took a deep breath as he rested his hands on her shoulders, his eyes meeting hers.

"I came back though, didn't I?" he said quietly. "I know how Orpheus works, Roxane; there's a good chance that they truly are telling the truth, even if it is just a trap to lure me in - which I'm sure it is. But if they do have Rosanna…" he paused as her name, one he hadn't spoken in years, passed his lips before continuing on, "then I wouldn't dare to even think of not getting her back to us."

"Then I'll come with you," Roxane replied immediately, bringing her hand up to his face. "Wherever we go, we can go together."

He put his hand over hers, holding it against his cheek for a moment before gently pulling it away with a slow shake of his head. "No," he said softly. "Stay here and look over Jehan and the farm. I can't look after all of you at once, and it won't help anyone if we all get arrested if this truly is a trap."

"I don't want to lose you again, Dustfinger," she argued as she gazed up at him, fear and desperation in her face.

"And if I have anything to say about it, you won't," he answered, squeezing her hand tightly. "I've always come back, haven't I?"

Roxane lowered her gaze, seemingly giving in to his request. "Yes; yes, you have."

"And I'll come back again." He kissed her forehead, closing his eyes for a moment before he pulled away. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, brushing his thumb across her cheek before he turned to Jehan. He gave the boy a small smile as he ruffled his hair. "I'm giving you the task of taking care of your mother and the farm while I'm gone. I'll be back soon."

As Jehan gave him a serious nod in response, Dustfinger turned to follow the handmaiden to the horses. He cast the soldier a wary glance as he watched the handmaiden climb up behind him, leaving her own horse for their new acquaintance's use. He prayed that even if this was a trap, Rosanna would still be there. Anything would be worth facing to hold his baby in his arms again for the first time in twelve years.

* * *

Four days passed in nearly unending silence as the small group made their way through Lombrica and Argenta. Dustfinger took a deep, steadying breath as the Castle of Night came into view, growing larger as the distance shortened. Even with all of his assurances to Roxane before he'd left, he had no idea what awaited him behind the menacing gates. Just because the Adderhead had been killed didn't mean the cruelty and danger had been erased from the country. It especially worried him that Orpheus was involved in this. The reader hadn't left on very friendly terms with anyone, and he would certainly want revenge for what had happened in the Castle on the Lake.

Their entrance into the castle's courtyard seemed strangely quiet as if each of the castle's inhabitants were holding their breaths in apprehension of the events soon to pass. Once they had all dismounted, the handmaiden turned to face Dustfinger; she still had a hard time looking at him, as if guilty of her part in this even though she'd had no say in the matter.

"If you will follow me, I can take you to Her Majesty and Orpheus," she said softly, tilting her head slightly towards the castle entrance.

When Dustfinger nodded silently, she turned to walk towards the castle, slowly at first as if to make sure he was following before continuing at a normal pace. They only came to a stop when they reached the throne room, passing the guards that stood on either side of the entrance. He barely even noticed Katerina curtsy to her queen before hurrying away as soon as she was released, all of his focus landing on the man standing beside the queen, a proud smile on his too large face as their gazes met.

"You see, your highness?" Orpheus said, looking Dustfinger up and down with such a smug expression on his face that the fire eater would have been happy to erase it for him if he was given the chance. "I told you it would work. Family is Dustfinger's weakness; and what better temptation than a dead daughter, brought back to this world alive and well?"

Hatred rose in Dustfinger as the Queen examined him as if wondering how he could have possibly had a part to play in the death of her husband.

"It did indeed work," she said thoughtfully. "I must say, I wasn't expecting you to be this easy to catch, Fire-Dancer."

Dustfinger had to force himself to keep his expression as neutral as possible, only allowing his mouth to become a thin line, though hatred still shone brightly in his eyes.

"Where is my daughter?" he asked finally.

He had to force himself to stay calm as the reader's proud smile grew at the mention of Rosanna. He looked so satisfied with himself, it could mean nothing other than what the handmaiden had claimed was true; his youngest daughter truly was back from the dead. Suddenly, so many thoughts raced through his mind. Would she remember him? If so, would she still love him, or had her time with Roxane's second husband replaced the ten months he'd been able to hold her in his arms? He hoped she would at least be able to forgive him for being away for so long, even though her memories of him must have faded over the two years she'd still been in the world of the living.

All of his thoughts vanished however when he followed Orpheus' gaze into the shadows against the wall where an all too familiar face glared at him with barely contained rage. So he was back again. He'd hoped he'd seen the last of him back at the Castle in the Lake, but that obviously wasn't the case.

"Basta," Orpheus commanded as if he was lord of the castle, "bring the girl to us."

The previous fire raiser shot one last hateful glare at Dustfinger before moving out of the shadows to walk out of the room. The thought of Basta even in the same building as Rosanna made Dustfinger sick, and now he was the one retrieving her from wherever they were keeping the child. Dustfinger wanted to go after him, stop him before he could reach his daughter, but he couldn't. Not with so many soldiers around, and certainly not without putting his daughter in danger.

Instead, he resigned himself to staring blankly at Orpheus as he rambled on and on about how he'd raised the fire raisers that had met their ends in this world at the Queen's orders - he was particularly proud of Basta, the Piper, and Firefox. He made sure to point out how easy it was to bring people back from Death's realm as long as you knew the right price to pay.

Before he could say more, the doors opened once again to reveal Basta pushing a small girl with dark curly hair in front of him, his knife drawn in one hand. The girl couldn't have been more than two or three years old at the most, her small, round face filled with fear as she looked around the room. When they reached Orpheus and the Queen, Basta shoved the child towards them so hard that she stumbled and fell at their feet, tears filling her eyes as she scrambled to stand.

"Now you see, Dustfinger! Look at what my words have done," Orpheus boasted with a large grin at the fire eater's obvious shock. "She's perfect, not a flaw to be had; and Death gave her up so willingly."

Dustfinger barely even heard his words however as he stared at the little girl in front of him. Even though he had expected Orpheus' words to be true considering what his skills were known to be, he hadn't truly believed until this moment that she really would be alive and breathing. But there was no doubt in his mind that this was his Rosanna, his baby; same hair, same eyes, mouth, and nose. All so much like her mother, and yet so much smaller.

Without really noticing what he was doing, he took a step forward, wanting to hold her in his arms, feel the weight of his baby leaning against him for the first time in twelve long years. He wanted to be certain that this wasn't a trick, though how could it be when his heart and mind agreed so completely as to leave no room for doubt. But he was soon snapped back to his full surroundings as one of the soldiers stepped in front of him, blocking his way to his daughter, though Dustfinger could still see her over the guard's shoulder.

"Uh-uh-uh," Orpheus shook his head as he placed a hand on Rosanna's head, a simple gesture saying that the deal hadn't yet been met while striking just enough intimidation into the child that she wouldn't move either. "You can look, but you can't have her just yet. Not until we're sure that we agree with the same terms."

Dustfinger pursed his lips as he watched Rosanna, her dark eyes looking him over as if trying to remember where she might have seen him. Of course she wouldn't know who he was immediately, if at all. She hadn't even made it through her first year before he'd been snatched away from this world. After another moment, he forced his gaze away from his daughter, difficult as it was, and aimed a quick glare at the guard in his way before looking at Orpheus with barely concealed anger.

"What do you want from me?" he said quietly, forcing himself to keep his tone as level as possible, though it grew harder at Orpheus' laughter in response to his words.

"Oh, I won't be telling you my plans," he said, his expression still beaming with pride and arrogance. "No, that's how the villains are always bested in stories. For now, let's just suffice it to say that you'll be staying here for awhile, my old friend."

As he finished speaking, he gestured Basta back over to him before nodding to the child in front of him. "Take the girl back to the dungeons," he ordered before turning to the soldier in front of Dustfinger with an order to escort him after his daughter. "I'm sure the Fire-Dancer will be pining for his daughter by now."

Dustfinger shot one more glare in Orpheus' direction, fighting the urge to ask fire for its assistance in the matter as he silently allowed the guard to lead him away. If he had been the only one in this situation, he might have actually risked it, but not with his daughter at risk. He would never put her in such danger if he didn't have to, and right now another way out wasn't completely out of the question, though he doubted Orpheus' plans included anything about him leaving this wretched place alive.

After walking through numerous passageways, most likely more than necessary so they wouldn't think of trying to memorize their way back out if they somehow escaped, they finally reached the dungeons. They were just the same as Dustfinger remembered them from when he'd come to check in on Resa and the other strolling players that had been imprisoned along with Silvertongue back when the Adderhead still lived. Basta pushed Rosanna none too gently into one of the cells, turning away carelessly as the child ran to the farthest corner of the room, as far from the fire raiser as possible. Luckily for them, they'd had the good sense to put Dustfinger and his daughter in the same cell.

Once he was in the cell, he immediately turned to put himself between Basta and Rosanna, silently watching Capricorn's former second in command as the guard locked the cell, though all the fire raiser did was cast one more threatening glance in Dustfinger's direction before walking away without saying a word.


	3. Chapter Two: Second Chances

**Chapter Two**

Second Chances

" **You have a place in my heart no one could ever have."**

 **~The Ice Palace; F. Scott Fitzgerald**

Dustfinger stood still for a moment longer, still cautious that Basta would change his mind about his silence and return. When he was sure they were alone except for the guards posted at the entrance to the dungeons, he slowly turned around so that he wouldn't startle the small child that his eyes settled on. There she was; his daughter, finally in front of him, the one person he truly thought he would never see again in this life. He knelt down a few feet away from her, not sure if she would know who he was or not. She still stood with her back pressed up against the wall of the cell, as far from the entrance as possible, her eyes staring at him questioningly as if she too wasn't quite sure if she knew him. She was most likely searching for the scars that had once lined his face, though she would find no trace of them now. Not after the events that seemed so long ago since they'd taken place, even if it had only been two years.

"You most likely don't recognize me, little one," he said softly, giving her a small smile as their eyes met.

Suddenly, a memory formed in his mind, one of Roxane holding a very small Rosanna with Brianna seated beside them while he made flowers out of the flames. He always put on a show for his girls after supper the day he returned from performing with the Motley Folk. Rosanna had always smiled the brightest of the three of them as she watched the blooming buds of orange and red. She may not be able to remember his face, but it was just possible that she would remember this.

He held his hand out in front of him and whispered softly, watching as a flame slowly formed in his palm, shaping into a flower before his eyes. As the flower slowly grew, he glanced back up to see Rosanna's eyes widen at the sight of the flames. Her gaze slowly moved up to look at his face, studying it for a moment before a wide smile broke out on her own as recognition lit up her eyes. A smile grew on his own face as relief flooded through him. It had worked; she remembered him. He made sure the flower had completely faded away before reaching his hands out to her, wanting so badly to finally hold her in his arms for the first time in so, so long.

In an instant, Rosanna was running towards him, her small steps still clumsy as she reached him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding on tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, holding his little girl close as he leaned his head against hers. As he ran his fingers gently through her dark curls, her small voice whispered into his ear, a voice so soft and sweet that he couldn't believe he'd forgotten the sound of it.

"You came back," she whispered happily. "I knew you would."

She said it so confidently. As if she had never believed otherwise even though Roxane and even Brianna had had doubts about him coming home. He knew they'd both wondered, if for only a moment, whether he had left them on purpose. But the innocence in his youngest daughter's beliefs nearly brought tears to his eyes.

"Of course I came back, little one," he said just as softly. "I would never leave you forever."

He loosened his grip slightly as he felt Rosanna pull away for a moment, just enough to look up at him, her dark eyes sparkling with pure joy as she reached up to touch his face, something she had done so often as a baby. She giggled, a bright smile still on her face, before hugging him tightly once more, her earlier fear of the dungeons and the guards seemingly vanished.

Another smile graced his lips at the sound of her sweet laughter. Closing his eyes as he wrapped his arms tighter around her once more, he vowed in that instant that no harm would come to her. Not if he could help it.

He opened his eyes again as her fingers moved to rest against his cheek, almost the exact spot one of his scars had once been. Even though her bright smile still lit up her whole face, she'd tilted her head curiously to one side as she looked him over.

"Where did they go?" she asked him. "Momma said you had scars on your face."

Of course she would know about the scars. They were one of the main things that told anybody who he was, in either Lombrica or Argenta. Roxane would have made sure to include them if she'd told their youngest daughter about him.

"Some kind people I knew once helped take them away," he said softly, images of Death's daughters appearing in his mind.

He'd been lucky enough to have no reason of seeing them these past two years, and he hated even having to think of them after the amount of encounters he'd had with them. They'd finally started to fade away from his dreams, though they still occasionally visited him. They still loved him too much to leave him alone entirely.

"Is that why you went away?" Rosanna interrupted his thoughts as her small fingers continued to run across his face as if tracing the scars that had faded away the day Death had allowed him a second chance. "To get the nice people to help?"

Dustfinger shook his head as he moved to a sitting position, gently pulling her onto his lap.

"No," he said, voice still so soft it was almost a whisper. "I didn't want to go away. I had to stay for a very long time. But I'm back now, and now that we're together we can go back to your momma and Brianna and Jehan soon."

"You saw Momma and Papa and Bianna and Baby Jehan?" the little girl tilted her head up to smile excitedly at her father. It was quite obvious that she missed her family, even the man her mother had married after her own father had disappeared.

Dustfinger tried to disguise the stab of pain that he felt at the term for Roxane's second husband, though he wasn't sure just how successful he was.

"Your momma and Jehan are home at the farm," he said, trying to avoid the news of her step-father's death if he could. "And Brianna works at the castle now. But we'll take you to visit her very soon."

"Bianna works at the castle?" Rosanna tilted her head to the side once more, confusion obvious in her expression. Thankfully she hadn't noticed that he'd left out her step-father in the explanation of where everyone was now, the news of her sister distracting her from anything else. Her confusion was justified of course; the last image of Brianna that she would remember would be a small, eight-year-old little girl, nowhere near the age one usually is when they leave home, especially for work.

That little girl now ran through Dustfinger's memories as he thought back on all of the time he had missed because of one man choosing to read aloud to his own family. He'd missed so much time with all of them. Even though he would've been taken from them in Fenoglio's original version of this world, at least he would have had more time with his girls than he'd had.

"Brianna is very grown up now," he said after a moment, the image in his mind changing to his eldest daughter as she was now - seventeen and more beautiful than anyone except her own parents could have imagined; still working for Violante of course, though she visited the farm more often now that her hurt had finally faded enough to allow him back into her life. "She's much bigger than you now."

The small girl's confusion only seemed to grow as she looked up at him. "Bianna is bigger?" she asked, not a bit of understanding in her dark eyes.

Dustfinger closed his eyes against the confusion in his daughter's gaze. How was he supposed to explain something like this to such a young child? Most adults wouldn't be able to comprehend returning from Death's realm, much less a child that hadn't yet reached her third year. He had to say something though; perhaps just enough to satisfy her until he could figure a better way to explain. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked into her own, wide and pleading for him to explain something he had no way of explaining.

"You were asleep for a very long time, little one," he said so softly that Rosanna wouldn't have been able to hear had she not been sitting so close. "Brianna and Jehan are big now. But they'll be so happy to see you now that you're awake. And you'll still be able to run and play with them, just like you used to."

Rosanna stared up at him for a long moment in silence before leaning against him, drawing her feet up into his lap as she nestled her head under his chin. It was obvious that she was trying to make sense of what he'd just said, but even the words he'd chosen had to be hard for such a young mind to comprehend.

Dustfinger could think of nothing else to say as he kissed the top of her head before hugging her tightly once more. The child seemed to shrink even smaller in his arms, the quickening of her breaths signifying her confusion transforming into fear.

"I want Momma," she said quietly, her fear even more obvious as she spoke.

"I know little one," he replied, stroking her hair. "You'll see her soon, I promise."

As Rosanna looked up at him, visibly relaxing at his words, it became even more clear that he had to get her out of this accursed place as soon as he could. No one so small and innocent should have to face such terrors as this castle held, nor anyone else for that matter. While his mind raced with possible escape plans, Rosanna reached down to hold one of his hands in both of hers, running her fingers over it before turning it over and pressing her tiny hand against his.

Dustfinger smiled down at the sight of such a small hand in his, something he never thought he would see again, as Rosanna's gaze moved back up to meet his, love still filling every bit of her expression.

"Momma told me lots and lots of stories about you," she said, her hand still resting in his as if it hadn't been twelve long years since they'd seen each other. "I asked her to tell me stories every single night. Bianna sometimes told me I was being silly. She said you wouldn't come back, but I knew you would. I always knew."

"Oh did you?" he replied with a soft chuckle at her unwavering belief. "I'm happy someone believed in me while I was away."

"Mm-hmm," she nodded. "I think Bianna did too. But she was trying to act all grown up like her friends. They said you wouldn't come back too. Sometimes I saw her looking at all the gifts you gave her. She'd always get so mad if I tried to look too. She said I wasn't allowed to touch them. Never, ever, ever."

Dustfinger smiled at the memories of bringing small gifts back to Brianna and Rosanna. A ribbon, cloth flowers, always something to show that he hadn't forgotten them while he was away. Brianna would always act as if she hated them, and him, at first, and would throw the gifts onto the ground as if she cared nothing for them. But after a small show of the fire flowers for his girls only, she would always forgive him. And he knew that she would secretly retrieve her gifts later that night when she thought everyone was asleep. He even knew that she kept them in a bag that she kept everything she considered important hidden in.

"Where did you go?" Rosanna asked, jolting him out of his thoughts. Her sweet face was void of any anger or judgment, only pure curiosity fueling her words, nothing else.

Dustfinger sighed as he tucked a short curl behind her ear. "Very far away. That's why it took me so long to get back home."

"Oh. What was it like? Was it a fun place?" Rosanna leaned back against him once more as if settling in for a story like Roxane used to tell her and Brianna before bed.

"Well, not for me. It's very loud and everything moves very fast… and I wasn't with my girls."

Rosanna's happiness seemed to dim slightly at his words, obviously realizing that he had truly hated the place he'd been stuck in for so long. She turned around in his lap to face him completely, a serious expression on her face now.

"You're back with us now, though," she told him, obviously trying to comfort him from the way she said the words, though there was also so much happiness as if she could hardly believe she got to say them, even as young as she was.

"Yes, I am," Dustfinger agreed with a smile. "And I'm never going to leave you again."

At the end of his words, he lightly poked her in the stomach with one finger, causing her to giggle loudly and throw her arms tightly around his neck as she hugged him. He was only able to enjoy the sweet sound of her laughter for the first time in twelve years for a moment, however, before a loud _clang_ sounded from outside the cell, causing them both to jump.

"Keep it down in there!" a guard yelled, tone gruff as he walked back to his usual post. He must have hit the bars of another cell, or something just as hard, to make such a sound.

In response to his voice and the loud noise, Rosanna recoiled against her father like she'd just been struck as she stared towards the dimly lit corridor beyond their cell with wide eyes. Her fingers clung tightly to the fabric of Dustfinger's shirt as he held her closer, stroking her hair gently and speaking softly to her in attempt to calm her as best he could. He turned his head to look cautiously towards the cell entrance as he spoke, waiting to see if the guard would change his mind and come back, but everything was silent.

After a moment, Dustfinger carefully stood and walked to the back of the cell, Rosanna still clinging to him as he sat back down and leaned against the wall. He immediately started running his fingers through her short curls again, though he kept his gaze on the cell's entrance, cautious of anyone showing up in front of it. He and Rosanna wouldn't be sitting in this accursed place if there weren't plans for them.

Rosanna looked up at him for a moment, relaxing against him as she saw the calm expression he'd forced himself to have in order not to upset her anymore. She pulled her feet up into his lap, trying to tuck her feet under the fabric of her dress, though it surely didn't keep out the cool air very well. She slowly raised her hand, putting her thumb in her mouth and beginning to suck on it as she blinked slowly. After only a few moments, a yawn escaped from around her thumb, her eyelids fluttering lower and lower until she could no longer keep them open.

"Hey Daddy," she said sleepily, another yawn interrupting her before she continued, "I love you."

Dustfinger quickly looked down at the small child in his arms, but she'd already fallen sound asleep, still sucking lightly on her thumb as she laid against him. His eyes widened slightly as her soft words repeated again and again in his head. He hadn't heard those words in a long time, so long that he'd nearly forgotten what they sounded like. Though he'd been back with Roxane for two years now, and they, of course, loved each other - more than anything else in this world, they rarely announced their love out loud, both preferring to show it with actions rather than words. But the sound of that little voice, one he hadn't heard in so long, saying them sent an unexpected jolt through him. He began to realize that he'd missed hearing those words from his family, even if it was rare.

"I love you too, little one," he whispered, bending down to kiss her head before leaning back against the wall and setting his gaze on the cell door once more with a sigh. "So much."


	4. Chapter Three: A Light After Darkness

**Chapter Three**

A Light After Darkness

"Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light."

~Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban; J. K. Rowling

Dustfinger wasn't sure how long he sat there, head leaned back against the cold cell wall, the sleeping form of his daughter still cradled gently in his arms. Though he had closed his eyes long ago, sleep had not found him as it had her. He hadn't let it, worried it would be when he allowed himself to drift off to sleep that someone would come and he wasn't sure what they would do. One thing was for sure, however, and that was that he had to keep Rosanna safe, no matter what. He wouldn't let anyone take her from him once again.

It seemed as though the thought had just passed his mind when the shallow sound of footsteps on the stone flooring reached his ears. Dustfinger could practically feel his heart beating out of his chest as the sound grew louder and louder, closer and closer. He shifted slightly, careful not to wake the sleeping toddler so that he could better get to his feet if he needed to though he silently begged that whoever this was would simply pass them up, that there would be no need to stand or wake Rosanna. But it seemed luck was not on his side tonight, the owner of the sounds stopping in front of the door of their cell. His face was one Dustfinger had expected to see long before now and yet hoped with all his heart he would have no reason to. Basta, of all people; his lips twisted up into a wicked grin.

He tossed the door open, uncaring of the way it clanged against the other side, sending the loud sound echoing throughout their small cell. In his arms, Rosanna startled at the noise, jumping up from a dead sleep with a shrill, terrified cry as Dustfinger quickly rose to his feet, holding her close to him. He never looked down at her, gaze trained on the approaching fire-raiser, but he felt her little fingers curl tightly around the fabric of his shirt. At a quick glance from Basta, the child flinched back, pressing herself as close to him as possible. Her cries quieted some, but paired with her reaction, Dustfinger had a feeling that it wasn't because she was calming down and that thought alone made him feel sick. What had been done to the girl in the days before he arrived here? Obviously, they hadn't just ignored her presence.

"Ah, Dustfinger," came Basta's voice, the sound of it dripping with the hatred he so obviously possessed for him. "I see you've figured out a way to rid your face of the decorations I so carefully carved for you."

At the sight of the knife Basta drew as if for emphasis, Dustfinger stiffened and tightened his hold on Rosanna, stepping back until he felt the chill of the stone wall at his back.

"Orpheus won't be very happy that you're down here, Basta," said Dustfinger slowly and carefully, trying not to anger the fire-raiser further. He knew all too well what Basta was capable of before he acquired such a strong, obvious hatred, a hatred forged in death itself. Sometimes, he could still, after all these years, feel the pain of his knife cutting into his face.

"I'm not afraid of him or his words anymore," said Basta, drawing the silver blade of his knife through his fingertips as he stepped closer to the two prisoners, the movement drawing Dustfinger's eyes to it. He swallowed hard before forcing his gaze back to Basta as he spoke, voice louder to be heard over the sound of Rosanna's cries. "You will never be rid of me, Fire-Dancer. You might as well surrender now for when Orpheus is done with you, you and your precious little daughter will be mine."

Dustfinger kept his eyes trained on Basta as he slowly lowered Rosanna to the ground, standing her on her feet and gently pushing her behind him. He made sure to keep one hand securely on her shoulder, both for her comfort and to protect her. He felt her press herself close to him, the side of her face against his leg as she clung to his pants leg so that she too could keep an eye on their attacker.

"Don't touch her," he said firmly, trying his hardest to keep the fear he felt both for himself and his young daughter from entering his expression and voice. It would only satisfy Basta far too much and scare Rosanna even further in turn. But the way Basta laughed only made his heart beat faster. He wasn't the least bit intimidated by the Fire-Dancer as others may have been and why should he be? Dustfinger was trapped here with nothing, his every action possibly reflecting on the well-being of his child if it didn't go as he planned - and it probably wouldn't.

He tightened his grip on Rosanna's shoulder as his fear turned to panic. What if Basta did choose to attack? Would he be able to protect Rosanna against his knife? Suddenly, he thought of the boy; the way Basta's knife had flown into his back before Dustfinger could even blink, the way he was dead before Dustfinger could catch him, no need even for the White Women. He gently guided Rosanna further behind him, feeling as though he couldn't even breathe anymore.

"You can do all you want to me," he said, unable to keep the desperation from his voice now as those thoughts circulated through his mind. He had only just gotten her back. He wouldn't let Basta take her from him again like he had taken the boy so long ago. Never again would he lose someone he loved so dearly. Never again would he have to feel such an overwhelming pain. "But don't touch her."

The emotion he had unwillingly let come through had had just the effect he'd expected. Rosanna's cries only worsened beside him, the child moving to bury her face against the black fabric of his pants as though she could hide from the fire-raiser there, as a wide grin broke out on Basta's face.

"What's wrong, Dustfinger?" he said tauntingly. "I can carve a new decoration in your face and one in hers to match."

All of Dustfinger's walls crumbled away at Basta's words, allowing all of his fear to shine through in full as images, terrible images full of blood and Rosie's screams, filled his mind. The thought of his daughter going through what he had so long ago; the pain so strong that it sent him into unconsciousness so many times, the fear he felt as he tried to fight but to no avail and was forced to watch as that blade came towards his face, the days and nights of fever as infection set in and the constant pain, so strong even the Barn Owl's best medicines couldn't take even a little of it away. It was only thanks to the fairies that he didn't die then.

Basta laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the stone walls surrounding them and giving it an even eerier sound than it might normally have. He seemed to take joy from the fire-eater's expression, but of course he would. It was Basta after all.

"I may not be able to do anything now," the fire-raiser began, the hostility reaching a new height in his tone as he pointed the knife at Dustfinger's chest. He pressed the tip of it into the fabric of his shirt so that Dustfinger felt the need to hold his breath as though his next inhale would send the knife piercing through his skin. As he continued to speak, he brought the silver blade down to rest only a fraction of an inch from Rosanna's nose, causing her to retreat back behind her father with another small cry. "But I will be back and mark my words, Dustfinger, I will not hesitate to do what I claim."

At the sight of the knife point coming towards his daughter's face, Dustfinger stepped towards Basta as anger swelled inside him, darkening his features. Without even realizing it, a flame burst to life in his hand, flickering violently in the darkness as if it shared his master's fury and desire to protect the toddler behind him. He raised his hand, a clear threat, and the fire grew bigger and burned brighter.

"You go near my daughter," his words came low and every bit as hostile as Basta's, every ounce of his fear having dissipated now in exchange for the anger, "and I will personally send you back to Death myself."

"We'll see about that," Basta spat, though he backed away from the fire and though his smile remained and he tried to stare down the man he considered barely more than prey, his eyes continued to flicker towards the flames. Dustfinger moved as though to send the fire towards Basta, fully willing to do so if the need arose. He would not hesitate to fight this man if it meant it would keep Rosanna safe, even if the very thought brought on new fear.

Basta flinched away from the fire. Death had not rid him of one of his deepest fears; the sight of a flame. Slowly, expression full of hatred, he backed out of the room, shutting the door and locking it, but not without giving them one final promise.

"I will be back."

Dustfinger let the fire in his hand dissipate as he watched Basta leave, eyes trained on his every move until he was well out of sight. Oh, why had Orpheus had to bring him back of all people? Because he knows how that man gets to you, answered his own mind. Because he knows how much he scares you.

When he was sure Basta was gone, he shook those thoughts from his mind and turned his attention back to the toddler standing a few steps away where she had been hiding behind him before he moved forward. His heart skipped a beat at the look on her face; the fear in her gaze, the tiny tears that rolled down those round little cheeks, the terrified cries she gave. Dustfinger had never seen her this way. His Rosie was always the happiest little baby, never sparing of those beautiful, bright smiles she gave. Basta hadn't even touched her, but he had scared her like this and that was enough.

He crouched down, reaching out his arms to the terrified little girl before him. "Come here, little one," he said, keeping his voice as soft and comforting as he could. "You're safe now."

Rosanna quickly toddled forward into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his neck, little hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt as though her life depended on it. He lifted her up, holding her tightly to him, as he stood and walked back to where they had been before sitting back down against the wall. He held her like that for a second longer before gently moving her to sit in his lap. As she looked up at him, Dustfinger placed his hands on either side of her small face, thumbs moving across her cheeks and wiping away the tears gathered there.

"It's alright now, Rosie," he said softly, lightly kissing her forehead. "I've got you. We're going to be okay."

The thought of Basta's threat kept returning to his mind, sending new bursts of fear through him, but he refused to let even the smallest bit of worry show, not wanting to frighten Rosanna any more than she already was. She was already struggling to calm down as she stared up at him, face flushed a blotchy red and cheeks stained with all those tears. Every time it seemed like she might actually calm down, something would bring new tears to her eyes and even though she sat in his lap, her fingers still wrapped themselves around the fabric of his shirt, clinging tightly to him.

"I'm here," he assured her once again, moving one hand to run across her hair. "You're safe."

Rosanna gave a little sniffle, rubbing one tiny fist across her eyes before leaning forward to wrap her arms around him again. Dustfinger pulled her close, kissing her hair before resting his head on top of hers, eyes trained on the door. With a little time and his comfort, Rosanna seemed to be calming, but there was no way he'd get any sleep after that run-in.

"I wanna go home," muttered Rosanna without moving, voice breaking under the weight of her fear. Anyone could see she was cold and scared and probably hungry too, considering he knew that they at least hadn't eaten anything since he got there. He couldn't even say when they had given her food or water last or what she had already been put through before he got here. Who knew what anyone here had done to his daughter in the days before his arrival.

"I know," he replied quietly. "Soon, I promise."

As he brushed the hair away from her face, one curl shorter than all the rest snagged his attention. His mind immediately went to the lock of hair sent to him in order to persuade him to go with the handmaiden and her guard and he frowned at the thought of his daughter, already confused and frightened enough after just coming back from Death's realm having to deal with someone forcibly cutting a lock of her hair with a knife.

"Very soon," he continued, a new note of determination to his voice. The child gave a small nod at this and silence filled the room; thick, heavy silence only interrupted by the occasional sniffle from the little girl or a few comforting words from the father who held her so protectively. Rosanna's little fingers moved to trace the patterns of red up the sleeve of Dustfinger's shirt. Motley colors, though he no longer performed with them and hadn't for a long time. She was no longer willing to sleep, it seemed, but she still lacked any of the jovial energy she had only hours before.

Dustfinger sat watching her quietly as one hand continued to brush back her curls. It was so strange for Rosie to be so quiet and still. She usually possessed so much laughter and energy, even as the baby she was the last time he saw her; crawling around after Brianna, giggling as they played with her, smiling so brightly at just being held or when they talked to her sometimes though she still couldn't talk back. When he had been pulled into Silvertongue's world, she had only known one word: Daddy. But she had put it to good use. Her little voice calling for him was one of the many things he missed so much over all these years, even when the sound of it was as distant in his mind as the little girl it came from.

Suddenly, an idea came to his mind, triggered by the hazy memories, clearer now that he had seen her face and held her in his arms again, of the baby he had once known and her precious smile. Slowly, he moved one hand away from her and whispered the secret language only few knew, resulting in a small flower of flames growing in his palm as an attempt to make that smile appear again.

Rosanna's gaze moved towards the light in her father's hand and a smile appeared on her lips; an expression that only brightened as he coaxed the fire into different shapes, only for the little girl who watched them. A small smile began to appear on his own face as he watched his daughter's growing attentiveness to the flames. With each new shape the flames took, Rosanna's smile only grew brighter and brighter until it shone like the fire in his hand. There was his Rosie.

The child never took her eyes off the flames, everything forgotten, for a short time at least, except her Daddy and the fire he called his friend. Suddenly, Rosanna leaned a little closer to the fire and the warmth it emitted, allowing a quiet giggle to escape her though she stayed careful to avoid the guards' attention.

"Careful," warned Dustfinger, though he kept his voice soft, as he made sure to keep the waving flames well out of her reach. "The fire may allow itself to listen to you sometimes, but it will still bite if you let it touch you so don't get too close."

"Okay, Daddy," Rosanna said, backing up as she glanced back at him to give a quick nod.

"Good girl," he replied with a smile as he continued to convince the flames to make different shapes for his baby girl. Rosanna watched them just as happily as ever for awhile longer before turning her head to look back at her father once again.

"Hey, Daddy?" asked the child, dark eyes bright as her gaze met his. "Do you think that one day I can make the flowers too?"

The question took Dustfinger by surprise, the shock of it abruptly extinguishing the fire in his hand as he stared down at the excited child in his lap. He'd never really considered either of his daughters taking after his profession, especially after he had been gone from their lives so long. Even with her love for the fire he conjured, he'd always assumed Brianna would take after her mother with a voice like hers, if she even chose a job with the strolling players, and with the way she always got so mad at him for leaving. Even when he'd last seen her at the young age of five years old, she'd already had a prettier singing voice than some much older than her. The fact that Rosie seemed so eager to learn his trade brought a smile to his face as he tousled her hair lightly.

"You'll have to ask your momma what she thinks when we get home," he replied, "But I'm sure you would learn very quickly if she lets me teach you."

Rosanna pressed her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound of the excited little giggles that escaped her. "You can teach me and then we can make the flowers together," she chirped, dropping her hands and turning to fully face him now that the fire had gone and no longer claimed her attention.

"That's nice," he nodded. "Though you can't get too good; otherwise you'll be better than me and we can't have that."

Dustfinger finished by tapping her on the nose with his finger, making it clear he was teasing. Her little hands flew back up to her mouth as the sound of her giggling filled the air once again, all her earlier fear seeming to disappear, replaced by thoughts of fire-eating and her daddy. She looked so happy now.

"I bet Momma and Bianna would be even happier with two fire flowers!" Rosanna cheered excitedly as she looked up at her father, dark eyes sparkling even in the dim, near non-existent lighting from outside the cell. "And Papa and Baby Jehan have never seen the flowers before. I bet they would love them."

"I'm sure they would, little one," he replied, though a certain note of joy had left the conversation at the mention of her step-father. Eventually, they would have to tell her he had gone long ago and he knew she wasn't going to take it well, but for now he let it go just like he did the knowledge that her stepbrother had already seen the fire-flowers. For now, at least, in this place, he wanted her to be able to hold on to as much happiness as she could.

"Why don't you try to sleep? I'm right here to protect you," he said softly, regretting the words as soon as that bright smile disappeared from her face as she looked back towards the door, obviously still scared Basta would return. Dustfinger sighed quietly and leaned back against the wall, his arms securely around his daughter as she moved to lay against him. He could see she wasn't tired, though she lay there in silence once again, her eyes continuing to wander towards the entrance of the dungeon. His hand moved absently across her hair as he let his mind race around thoughts of how to work out a way out of here and back to the farm, but so far, he could think of nothing worthwhile. Every scenario he thought of wouldn't work anyway or put Rosanna in some sort of danger. He could probably get out alone, but with her… he wouldn't risk it… He'd just have to think of something else.

"Daddy," came the little girl's voice, drawing his attention back to her as she lifted her head to look at him, obviously uneasy about all of this. "Can you sing a song like Momma does?"

Even now, he could pull up a few vague memories of the times when Roxane's voice alone could calm Rosanna's cries. Whenever their baby just couldn't seem to get to sleep or something had scared or upset her, it was her mother's voice that quieted and comforted her. Suddenly, he realized he hadn't heard that voice more than a handful of times since his return. Sure she still sometimes sang to Jehan, but before he had been taken from his home twelve years ago, she had sung all the time, sometimes for performances or practice, but also sometimes to just him or just because she wanted to or even absentmindedly humming one of her songs as she did something else. Now she didn't sing very often at all.

He had heard from both Cloud-Dancer and Roxane herself that she had quit singing very often after both he and Rosanna had gone, but even after he returned, she still hadn't quite picked up the habit again. The sudden realization filled him with another emotion to add to the others already fighting for dominance inside him; a type of longing close to but not quite what he had felt all those years. A longing for the happy life they had led before, only now he knew how fragile that happiness could be and he couldn't help but think if he could do it again, he would never have left her side even for a moment.

But Dustfinger only blinked in surprise at her request. Singing had always been Roxane's thing. He had never actually sung to anyone before and he was less than confident in his ability to do so.

"I'm not sure I would be able to sing anything the way Momma does," he answered, voice soft and almost hesitant as he looked down at her.

"Oh," said Rosanna, moving to pat him on the arm as though to comfort him. "That's okay. Everyone says that. Well….not Bianna. She likes to sing with Momma. What about a story? Can you tell me a story?"

"Hmm," he said as he thought over what story he could tell the child. "I should be able to manage that one."

"I want a happy one, please," smiled the little girl as she laid back down against him, keeping her head tilted up so she could still look at him.

"Oh, a happy one," he said, acting as though he had to think of which one though he knew immediately what kind of story to tell. A story from his own experiences; the story of one of the happiest days of his life. The one in which Roxane became not just the minstrel woman and one of his best friends, but his Roxane, his love.

"There were once these two strolling players; one a boy who was very close friends with fire, closer than anyone else, and the other a girl, a minstrel woman who had the most amazing voice in all of Lombrica and Argenta alike," he began. "This girl was also one of the most beautiful girls in all Lombrica and Argenta, too, with long, dark curls and dark eyes and all of the men in the kingdom wanted to marry her. And whenever the men would come and ask, the boy, who the girl had grown up with, would always make fun of them so quietly that only the girl could hear. And she'd try very hard not to laugh as she told the men that she couldn't marry them.

Because you see, she was in love with someone else. But the boy hadn't yet asked her to marry him because he didn't think she would say yes.

Then, one day, after a long day of having to say she didn't want to marry any of the men who asked her, the girl heard the boy make one more joke and she spun around so fast that the boy froze, worried he'd done something wrong. But all she said was, 'if you disapprove of all of them so much, why don't you marry me yourself?'

And finally, the boy and the girl were married and soon after they had a little girl with bright, fiery red hair like her father. And a few years later, to their great happiness, they had another little girl who looked so like her mother that her father knew he'd have to chase away many boys one day," Dustfinger finished, smiling as he looked mischievously at Rosanna, who gave another small giggle in return. He knew even then he would never tire of that sound, so different and yet so similar to the giggling he would listen to when he would tickle her neck or belly or even those little feet or when he would toss her into the air a little and catch her. She had always loved that.

"I really, really like that story," said the little girl, beaming up at him. Her expression was so full of love and adoration even in this dark, frightening place. He knew he may not tell stories like the minstrels, making every story sound like a song, or even like Silvertongue, who could make words paint pictures so vivid you could feel them on your skin, but she really did seem to enjoy it nonetheless and a feeling almost like pride mixed with a little surprise rose in him. It had been twelve long years since he had held a child, especially his own children, in his arms and yet he still knew how to make her smile so easily. It surprised him. Part of him expected to not know what to do at all when he got back.

"I do too," he replied with a slight nod and a smile in return. If only the story had ended happier than he had. If only he had had more time with them then, but maybe this - maybe having Rosanna back - was a second chance. He'd been able to fix things with Brianna and although she was not the little five-year-old girl he remembered at least now she spoke to him, smiled at him. But he would get a chance to raise Rosanna together with Roxane; he'd be able to right what had been done wrong with her too, though she seemed to harbor none of the hurt his eldest had.

As much as he hated that Orpheus had returned, he had to be grateful to him for this one thing. He would escape this place somehow. He would be able to take Rosie home to her Momma and sister and brother. They would all be together again.

"Momma tells me that story sometimes too," she said, a big yawn cutting her off there. The storytelling seemed to have worked to calm her. "It's one of my favorites."

"Does she?" Dustfinger asked, lowering his voice. He had known Roxane told her stories about him, Rosie had said so herself, but he hadn't known she had told her stories like that. He and Roxane had come to some silent agreement since he'd returned not to talk too much about Rosanna. The loss of her had been new to him, dulled only slightly by the fact that he had already believed he had practically lost them all during the ten years in which he was trapped in another story, and even after all those years, it still only hurt Roxane to remember. The tiny grave in their backyard had been a reminder enough. "I can see why; it's a very good one."

"It is," she gave a slow, sleepy nod. "Momma tells me lots of good stories. I like the ones she tells about you and her best, though."

"Oh?" He replied curiously. "Does she tell you lots of stories about me and her?"

"Most nights she does if I ask for them," Rosanna answered before giving another yawn. She stretched a bit before settling back down, still looking up at him as she spoke. "Some nights though, she says she'll tell me a story like that some other time and she would just tell me about you. Bianna said it was 'cause she was sad and I wouldn't be nice if I kept making her tell them so I just let her tell them when she wants to."

"That's kind of you," he said softly. He regretted every minute of sorrow that Roxane had to endure while he was trapped in the other world. Dustfinger tried to no longer be bitter about Silvertongue snatching him away from his home and family, but there were times such as now when his thoughts went to the time he was apart from the ones he missed that he couldn't help the sour feeling.

Rosanna gave a smile at her father's praise before continuing on. "I liked the stories about you too. You and…wait," she sat up and looked around for a moment before her confused gaze settled back on her father. "Where is he?"

"Gwin," Dustfinger said, realizing his daughter must have been talking about the horned marten that had been his companion for so long. "is back on the farm with your Momma and Jehan. He likes to make sure the chickens don't get attacked by anything other than him." He teased her, though the marten rarely did that anymore.

Rosanna gave yet another muffled giggle, hands coming to her mouth, at the mental image of the little creature. "I like Gwin," she told him. "He's funny."

Dustfinger chuckled at the sleepy little girl. "I'm sure he likes you too," he said quietly.

Rosanna nestled into her father's arms, much more contented now that she had been cheered up with stories and talking with her daddy. She blinked heavily as she smiled up at him.

"I hope so," she said, voice soft with the pleasant lull of sleep. Now that the adrenaline must have begun to wear off, fatigue seemed to be hitting her hard and with every blink, she seemed to keep her eyes closed a little longer.

"You'll just have to remember to ask him," Dustfinger said, another small smile coming to his face as he brushed the black curls away from her forehead.

"Mm-hmm," mumbled Rosanna, giving a very slight nod and slowly popping her thumb in her mouth as she blinked once more, but this time, the fatigue won her over and she quickly drifted off to sleep.

Dustfinger continued to run his hand over her hair long after she had fallen asleep. Now that everything seemed to calm and he sat there in the darkness and silence, it truly hit him that this was the first time he'd been with a child this small in twelve long years. He couldn't believe how easily he'd remembered how to care for her, calm her, and make her happy again and sitting there, staring at the peaceful expression on her small face, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't leave this time. He'd make sure she knew who he was and that he didn't miss anything important in her life. They'd both been given a second chance and he was determined to make the best of it.

She looked so tiny curled up in his arms, little feet tucked up in her dress. Dustfinger held Rosanna's free hand in his, feeling how cold it was. Careful not wake her, he gently held her closer, hoping that he'd be able to warm her up even if it was just a little. He should have taken the time to grab his cloak from the house before going with the Queen's handmaiden and the soldier who accompanied her, then at least he could have wrapped her up in something, but the only thing he'd been able to think about was the fact that she was back, trapped in the Castle of Night of all places.

How could anyone delight in doing what they had done to her; locking her up, leaving her here cold and alone and scared, threatening her like they had. She hadn't even actually reached her third year of life and she had already been through too much and that was just while he was here. Who knew what they had done to her before? All that he did know was that nothing else would happen to his little one; not while he was there.


	5. Chapter Four: The Calm in the Storm

**Chapter Four**

The Calm in the Storm

" **I've never trusted calm; there has always been the hint of a gathering storm just around the corner."**

 **~ Sleight; Jennifer Sommersby**

Dustfinger opened his eyes slightly as the sound of a soft moan reached his ears. He looked down just in time to see Rosanna stretch her small arms over her head before curling up closer against his stomach. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up at the sight of his baby - a face he hadn't seen in so, so long. Even though he hadn't slept at all the night before, he'd been terrified that she would just disappear from his grasp as if she had never even been there. He knew he wouldn't have been able to handle such sorrow as that would have brought.

Rosanna didn't move for a long moment, so long that he'd almost begun to believe that she'd drifted back into her world of dreams, but eventually, she shifted just enough to prove him otherwise. It was obvious that she didn't want to wake up quite so soon. Finally, though, she stirred once more, slowly blinking open her eyes to meet Dustfinger's gaze. The bright smile that emerged on her lips as she looked up at him sent a rush of happiness through him that he would never have thought possible, especially in the Castle of Night, of all places.

"Hi Daddy," she mumbled, voice heavy with the sleep that still threatened to tug her away once more.

"Good morning little one," Dustfinger replied softly, brushing a stray curl away from her eyes with a smile. "Did you sleep good?"

"Mm-hmm." Her small hands moved to rub the sleep from her eyes before slowly sinking back into her lap. "Very good. Did you sleep good?"

Dustfinger only nodded in response because in reality, he hadn't slept much at all. He'd spent most of the remainder of the night on guard, wary that Basta would make good on his promise much sooner than expected. He'd really only just begun to doze off right before Rosanna had woken up, and he couldn't very well let her be alone while he slept.

Thankfully Rosanna didn't seem to question his reply at all, automatically assuming that he had slept just as well as she had. She stretched once more with a small yawn before sitting up to lean against his chest. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and hugged her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he did so.

"I love you, Daddy," Rosanna said quietly, giving him a bright smile as she wrapped her arms around him as much as she could.

He took a deep breath, still unused to hearing those words from such a sweet little voice. "I love you too, Rosie."

The little girl's smile only seemed to widen as she looked up at him, obviously enjoying the nickname he'd almost always called her. It quickly vanished, however, as the sound of light footsteps echoed through the drafty hall. Whipping her head around so quickly that her curls fell in her face, she pressed herself closer to Dustfinger, a soft whimper escaping as her hands wrapped around his fingers.

Dustfinger pulled Rosanna closer to him as his eyes watched the newcomer's shadow grow shorter and darker as they approached. When the owner of the echoing footsteps came into view, he raised his gaze to meet that of the young handmaiden who'd escorted him to the castle under the Queen's orders.

A small frown turned down the corners of his mouth as he inspected her, only vaguely noticing the pitcher and cup in her hands before realizing that she was not the only one who now stood in front of the cell's barred door. He didn't recognize the guards as any of the ones he'd seen since being in the castle, but even if they had been, their faces weren't worthy of committing to memory.

The handmaiden waited silently as the door was unlocked, head bowed slightly as if she were guilty to be standing in front of him, free. Though perhaps she just hated the dungeons or even the guards that had escorted her down the stairs. As the door swung open, she slowly stepped toward the cell, glancing nervously at Dustfinger for a moment before entering the cell completely. Perhaps stories of what he could do still traveled through the kingdoms even now.

Just as the young woman opened her mouth the speak, the guards slammed the cell door shut, the bars rattling with so much force as to make even Dustfinger flinch involuntarily. She waited a moment as if to gather her thoughts back from where the sudden noise had scattered them before taking another hesitant step towards Dustfinger and Rosanna.

"My name is Katerina," she said the words so softly that Dustfinger had to strain to hear her. "I brought you something."

Dustfinger waited for her to say more, but her gaze had dropped to Rosanna, lingering there with a momentary distant look in her expression that seemed to say she was no longer in the same time as they were. Only seconds had passed, however, before she noticed the way Rosanna's eyes kept flickering to the cell door as if expecting someone else to arrive at any moment - someone much worse than a lowly handmaiden.

"Don't worry, sweet girl," she whispered, carefully lowering herself to her knees to better meet the young child's eyes. "It's just me. No one else."

She waited for Rosanna's eyes to move back to her without checking the door every few seconds before looking back at Dustfinger, a solemn darkness that hadn't been there a moment ago filling her gaze.

"I brought you some water," she continued, only looking away long enough to fill the cup with the water the pitcher contained.

Dustfinger nodded, taking the cup as she held it out. Why hadn't she just said she was bringing water to begin with? It had been obvious from the moment that she'd stopped outside of their cell.

He didn't care enough to think past that small question though. Not when he had the first bit of sustenance that he'd seen since entering the cell now in his hand. He bent over Rosanna a bit, holding the cup to her lips with a small smile of encouragement. The way that she drank the water, very nearly choking on it in her hurry to drink as much of the cool drink as she could, small hands wrapped tightly around the cup as if fearful it would be snatched from her before she finished, made him actually pause to think about how long it must have been since she'd gotten anywhere near the food or drink that she actually needed.

Though his gaze stayed fixed on Rosanna as she drank, he wasn't pulled back into the present until he felt the touch of Katerina's hand on his arm, drawing his attention to her. As soon as he looked at her, Katerina pulled her hand back, glancing over her shoulder anxiously at the guards' backs. When she seemed sure they wouldn't turn around, she quietly slid a hand into the pocket of her apron.

His eyebrows raised in surprise as she pulled a small chunk of bread out of her pocket. It was obvious she was only supposed to bring them water, not such a luxury as food to ease the sharp pains of hunger in their stomachs. She gave him no time to react, hurriedly pushing the piece of bread into his hand and closing his fingers around it with a quick smile at Rosanna, that faraway look returning to her eyes for just an instant before she stood and walked back to the cell door.

"I'm finished," she said softly, casually as if nothing had happened except the task she'd been told to handle. Without another word, she stepped out of the cell, waited for the guards to lock it once more, and walked between the two of them back towards the stairs without a single glance backward.

Dustfinger waited to make sure the guards were as far away as they could be before he took his hand from where it had been tucked between himself and Rosanna, the chunk of bread still safely encased by his fingers. He tore a small piece away, hopefully, enough to ease Rosanna's growling stomach, but not so much that she would get sick after not eating for who knew how long. Besides, they needed to save as much as possible in case they weren't brought any more food in the near future.

I'll trade you," he said lightly, one hand holding out the piece of bread while the other reached for the cup of water in the young child's hands.

Rosanna's eyes widened as her attention fell to the food in her father's hand. Her small hands pushed the cup into his free hand before snatching the bread away so quickly that it nearly broke Dustfinger's heart.

"Okay Daddy," she said before shoving a large bite of the bread into her mouth. A quiet moan escaped the small girl, though the bread couldn't have been anywhere near as good as what Roxanne would have given her at home. It was obvious how little she cared though, how happy she was just to have something in her belly once again.

Dustfinger gave Rosanna a gentle smile as he watched her eat, taking a small sip of the remaining water in attempt to ignore the beginning pangs of hunger in his own stomach. He didn't want to take away any of the food from Rosanna; she was so tiny, she certainly needed it more than he did right now.

In only a few moments, the bread Rosanna had had in her hands had vanished from sight. Her lower lip trembled slightly as she looked down at her empty hands, a look of complete disappointment on her face as she realized that her meal was now gone. She seemed to forget her disappointment when she looked up at Dustfinger though. Instead, a look of deep concern appeared, much like the look Roxane used to give him every time he would leave for yet another trip with the Strolling Players, and even the look she'd given him when he'd left with Katerina.

"You didn't eat," she said, doubt creeping into her voice as if questioning whether she'd been meant to eat all of what she'd been given.

Another small smile appeared on Dustfinger's lips as he tucked a small curl behind her ear.

"I'm not very hungry right now, little one," he said. "I'll eat in a bit."

"Oh," she said, her concern immediately fading. "Okay."

Now that she was sure that he was okay, she twisted in his lap until she was laying down, hanging her head upside down slightly so that her black curls fell away from her face and brushed the cold stone of the floor beneath them. Dustfinger was surprised to realize that he had to bite back the threat of laughter that all of a sudden bubbled up in his chest as he watched her examine the now upside down room with a curious expression on her face. He hadn't had to fight to hide his emotions like this in a very long time, not since before Silvertongue had read him out of the book that terrible night.

He realized he must not have succeeded in concealing his amusement much when Rosanna began giggling as their gazes met. Wanting to keep the laughter going for as long as possible, he tilted his head to the side so that it almost matched the angle of Rosanna's before reaching out to tap her lightly on the nose with his forefinger.

"What's so funny, little one?"

"The ceiling is the floor now," she responded, sending a grin brighter than the sun shining up at him. Another giggle flew from her lips as she moved her hands to touch the floor over her head. "I can touch the ceiling now!"

"Oh?" he raised his eyebrows unbelievingly, a grin growing on his face. "And when did you grow so big that you can touch the ceiling now?"

"You can touch the ceiling too." Another sentence spoken through fits of laughter. "So you're really big too. We're both really big now!"

"Oh no," Dustfinger chuckled softly as he gently gathered her into his arms, hugging her close as he lowered his face so that they were nearly nose to nose. "You're not allowed to be as big as me just yet."

With the sound of so much laughter echoing through the small cell, he could almost forget where he was as he looked into the eyes of his youngest daughter; eyes so much like her mother's.

"Okay," she threw her hands out to the side to accompany her matter of fact words. "I am smaller big, but you're bigger big! So we can both touch the ceiling, but you are bigger still."

A full, true laugh finally escaped Dustfinger's lips, though he was quick to cut it short at the thought of what the guards would do if they heard the happiness and joy echoing through such a dismal place. In its place, he allowed himself to let a wide grin trail across his face.

"You just stay smaller big for as long as you can, Rosie," He took her small hands in his, wrapping his fingers around hers as he squeezed her hands lightly.

Rosanna smiled at him, dark eyes sparkling with the joy and love that was evident in her expression as she looked up at him.

"Okay Daddy," she promised, pulling herself to stand on his lap so she could press a quick kiss to his nose.

He blinked in surprise as she pulled away, not at all expecting her to show him so much affection after he'd been gone for so long, even before she'd been taken from this world. Even before he'd been dragged into Silvertongue's world, he hadn't been home nearly enough as he should have been - a fact that was always painfully clear with every detail around him. But no; Rosanna didn't seem to care about any of that, just as she had in the past. She was too young to understand why it took him so long to come home some trips. As long as he eventually came home, she was happy. He leaned forward slightly to touch his nose to hers before gently kissing her forehead.

"Thank you," he said softly as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight against him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "You're welcome."

After a moment, he settled her back into his lap, using both hands to gently brush back all of the stray curls hanging in front of her face after her upside down escapade. She grinned up at him as she did, all signs of fear of the guards or the place entirely nonexistent now. She tucked her feet underneath her, small hands tugging the hem of her nightgown down as far as it would go in an obvious attempt to get warm as she looked around the cell.

"Is it nighttime or daytime?" she asked, looking up at the ceiling, genuine curiosity in her voice.

His gaze perused the cell around them, the cold stone walls, solid from floor to ceiling, the sturdy door that allowed no light except what little could creep in through the bars from the low light of the few torches in the hall, and realized that he had no way of telling what time of day it was. He'd been up all night, so he couldn't attempt a guess by how long he'd slept. And he wouldn't have put it past Orpheus or even Basta to order the handmaiden - Katerina - to bring them water in the middle of the night just to confuse them.

"I'm not sure little one," he admitted, tucking a lone curl behind her ear as he looked back down at her.

"Me neither. It's very dark here all the time. I miss the sun."

He frowned as he realized that he hadn't stopped to think about just how long his daughter been stuck in this cold, dark place by herself. It would have taken at least a week for Katerina and her escort to make it to the farm and back with him in tow. Anger bubbled up in his chest as he imagined her all alone, Basta and the guards the only ones to ever enter the dungeon of their own free will.

"Sometimes I imagine things," her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. Her small finger reached up to trace a small sun shape in the air above her. "Sometimes it helps. It's very boring in here too. Well, until you came. You make it better."

He forced a small smile to his lips as he stroked his thumb lightly over her cheek. "You make being here a lot better too, little one." Though it would have been so much better if neither of them was there at all.

Her smile seemed to break through her momentary solemnity at his words. "That makes me happy."

He couldn't help the short, soft laugh that slipped past his lips. How someone could be so cheerful in the dungeon of the Castle of Night, he had no earthly idea, but this child managed it astonishingly well for someone who'd been there for days all alone.

"What?" she asked through the giggles that bubbled up for the sole fact that he was laughing too. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she looked up at him, a bright smile still on her face.

"I just missed you, my little one," he whispered before kissing her forehead.

As he pulled away, Rosanna lifted her small hand to stroke his cheek, just as she had as a baby, so small she almost fit in just his hands alone. "I missed you too. Very, very much."

In that moment, all he could do was close his eyes, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. Even back in the other world, when he'd had no idea that Rosanna had been taken from everyone far too soon, this was one of the things he had missed most about home. Memories flooded back to the front of his mind; waking up the morning after he'd returned from a trip to cheerful smiles and giggles, hands running across his face in an attempt to wake him up. And now, by some amazing stroke of luck, he actually had it back again; something he never even imagined could be possible.

Finally, he opened his eyes to look into the sweet face of his little one, putting a hand on each side of her chubby face. He stroked his thumbs along her cheeks before kissing her nose as she had done to him earlier. When she wrapped her arms around his neck once more, hugging him as tightly as she could, he could only sigh and lean his head against hers, soaking in the feeling of being nearly back to the way things were before he'd left. Once they got out of this place, which he knew they somehow would, no matter what it took, all they would need was Roxane and Brianna with the added addition of Jehan and everything would be as perfect as he could have ever imagined it.


	6. Chapter Five: An Unexpected Savior

**Chapter Five**

An Unexpected Savior

" **Reading is one form of escape. Running for your life is another."**

 **~ Lemony Snicket**

Katerina had to force herself to walk slowly as she made her way through the maze-like halls of the castle though that was the last thing her instincts were telling her to do. But in order for this to work, there was no way she could allow even an ounce of suspicion to be directed towards her. Thankfully, it was far enough into the night that not many people were in the halls with her. Just a few guards here and there and none of them paid any of the handmaidens much mind, much less her. She was too quiet for any of them to notice her and she was perfectly happy with that.

At least it wouldn't be too surprising for her to be walking along the castle grounds at night. She often slipped outside whenever she could, even when the moon was at its peak in the dark sky, just to escape the suffocating fear and sorrow of that terrible castle. It was her only time to really have her thoughts and emotions to herself, the only time she could allow herself to remember a time far into the past, a much happier time though it only caused her pain to think of it.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached her destination; a piece of the wall mostly hidden from the sentries' line of vision, seemingly as solid as the rest of the thick stone around it, but she knew better. Her fingers ran along the lines of the stones until they found the single stone that stuck out barely more than the others. She stepped back for a moment as a section of the wall seemed to break away, sliding into the wall beside it, revealing a dark passageway ahead. She glanced over her shoulder one more time before hurriedly stepping past the wall, making sure to slide it shut before hurrying blindly through the dark passageway, running her fingers along one wall for guidance.

After what seemed like hours later, but couldn't have been more than a few moments, she sensed the new wall inches from her nose. To anyone else who somehow stumbled upon this passageway, it would seem that it was just a dead end - long ago sealed by the Adderhead or maybe even one of his guards, if any of them were actually smart enough to know just how important this entrance was, but she knew the truth. Running her fingers along the dark stones once more, she quickly found the latch that released the door, silently thanking the stars that she'd thought to memorize the locations of the latches before tonight.

She held her breath as the wall slid away to reveal the end of the dungeon's hallway, pulling the hood of her cloak up to conceal her face. Hopefully, if one of the guards did catch sight of her, she would have enough time to escape back into the passageway before they could catch her or see her face. As quietly as she could, she inched along the hallway, silently counting the doors as she went, though she made sure to stay aware of her surroundings and to keep to the shadows as much as possible.

She paused in front of one of the thick wooden doors, swollen from the moisture of the dungeons and took a deep breath. She slid her hand into the pocket of her apron, pulling a single key out and shakily sliding it into the lock. This was it; she was really going to do it. Once she turned that key, one way or another, there would be no turning back from what she'd done. But deep in her heart, she knew this was something that she had to do. She couldn't bear the thought of that poor little girl trapped down here any longer, even with her father, though who knew how long that would last now? It wouldn't be long before the sweet girl and the fire-eater would both end up back in the hands of Death's daughters unless she got them out of here.

Without another thought, her hand turned, almost of its own accord. The moment she felt the lock click, she pushed open the door just enough for to slip inside before softly closing it behind her. She turned away, her gaze immediately moving to where the fire-eater and his daughter had been that morning, but froze when she saw the man's wary gaze already on her - dull but focused as if he hadn't yet gone to sleep but was prepared for anything that stepped into their cell. She pushed her hood back so that he could see who she was before raising a finger to her lips as their gazes locked. His eyes never moved from her as she glanced over her shoulder once more, straining to hear any sign that the guards were onto her.

When she was sure they were as safe as they could be, for now, she stepped closer, both hands held out before her as she knelt down in front of him. For a second, her gaze floated down to the little girl curled against him with his arms wrapped protectively around her as she slept, a small smile on her lips. Oh, how she missed the days of small fingers wrapped around the fabric of her dress, sleepy smiles at night… so many things she would never experience again.

She blinked as she realized she'd nearly forgotten where she even was. Giving a small shake of her head, she moved her gaze back up to meet Dustfinger's, forcing the corners of her mouth to turn up as much as she could bring herself to through all of her slowly fraying nerves.

"I'm here to get you out," she said as softly as she could, praying her voice wouldn't carry through the dungeon if she whispered her words. She didn't say any more than that though, fear of being caught erasing any other words that she'd had prepared to convince him to trust her.

There must have been something in her expression that convinced him, or maybe he was just too desperate not to trust her because after a moment of looking at her he glanced down at the sleeping child in his arms and seemed to come to a decision. He gave a small nod as he carefully moved one arm to place a hand against the chilled stone, pushing himself to his feet.

As Katerina stood back up, she'd only just released a sigh of relief that Dustfinger had agreed when a soft whine reached her ears. Her eyes flew to the little girl, her heart sinking just a little as the child began to squirm in her father's arms. Oh, it would have been so much easier if she'd just stayed in her sweet land of dreams until they were well away from the castle grounds.

It was obvious the child wasn't ready to wake up just yet from the way she tried to curl back up against Dustfinger, but after a moment she seemed to realize that something about their position had changed. She raised her head to slowly blink up at her father, sleep still pulling at her eyelids as she rubbed a small hand over her eyes.

"Daddy?" she said, voice tinged with the whine of a child badly in need of more sleep.

Katerina edged towards the door of the cell, ears straining for even the slightest sign that anyone had heard the child's voice. A shaky breath escaped her after a moment of silence filled the dungeon once more. She glanced over her shoulder at Dustfinger, silently pleading him to calm the child down as quickly and quietly as possible. Even now, they would have to be quick about escaping into the woods if they wanted to avoid being seen by the guards.

The Fire-Dancer's only acknowledgment to her silent urging was to turn to the child in his arms as he settled her against his chest. "Shh," he whispered, brushing the little girl's dark curls out of her face. "It's alright little one. I didn't mean to wake you. But I need you to be very quiet, alright?"

Another small whine escaped the child, though this time it was muffled as she pressed her face against her father's shoulder, squirming as she tried to decide whether she wanted to go back to sleep or stay awake. It wasn't long before she lifted her head once more, obviously not happy that her small amount of sleep had been interrupted.

"Why?" she asked, not bothering to make her voice any quieter than it had been before. In fact, to Katerina it seemed to be even louder now that the child was more awake, making her flinch as she looked at the door once more before shooting Dustfinger a look full of impatient desperation. They had to go - now.

Dustfinger nodded quickly before looking back down at the child, rubbing a hand up and down her back as he spoke. "We're going home, but I need you to be _very_ quiet until we get to the trees so that we won't get in trouble. Can you do that for me, Rosie?"

The fire-eater's words seemed to help the child wake up a bit more, the fog of sleep finally clearing enough to understand her father's words. At the mention of home, the little girl's eyes widened, a small smile brightening her face as she nodded eagerly.

"I'll be very, very quiet, Daddy," she said in a hushed voice, wrapping her arms around her father's neck.

While she was glad that the little girl finally understood that she had to keep as silent as possible, the fact that they were all still standing in this cell, wasting the precious concealment of darkness, erased any comfort Katerina could have taken from the situation.

"Please," she breathed, taking a step closer to Dustfinger, "we really do need to go. If we waste much more time, we won't have a chance."

When Dustfinger nodded in response, she turned to the door once more and pulled the hood of her cloak back over her head, concealing her face in shadow before she slowly pushed open the door, keeping a tight hold on the edge to keep it from creaking or slamming as all of the doors in the dungeons had a tendency to do. She glanced up and down the hall before stepping outside, pulling the door open wider for Dustfinger to get through with Rosanna. As soon as he'd stepped out, she pushed the door closed once more, hoping to keep any suspicions low for as long as possible.

Glancing one more time towards where she could hear the guards talking quietly to each other, the occasional bit of laughter echoing to reach her ears, she turned back down the hall, stepping around Dustfinger to lead him towards what would hopefully be the way to freedom for all of them.

She didn't look back as she walked, fingertips grazing the darker side of the hall in anticipation for the door's latch, depending on the sound of quick but soft footsteps sounding just behind her to make her aware that Dustfinger was following. She hadn't realized she'd been almost holding her breath until she reached the location of the hidden door and a long sigh of relief escaped her lips, gratitude to the little girl snuggled safely in her father's arms for not making a sound.

She pressed her hand firmly against the stone before stepping away as the wall slid aside once more, revealing the passageway that seemed to be even darker now than it had been before. She turned to Dustfinger, gesturing silently for him to step inside first. Though his eyebrows were raised in question at the sight of the opening, he kept his lips pressed shut as he stepped past her, his grip tightening on Rosanna as the darkness swallowed them up.

As soon as he'd made it past her, Katerina followed, pausing to close the door behind them, the stifling darkness truly enveloping them in its muffled silence. Her own heart seemed to beat faster for just a moment as the dark closed in around them, though it quickly settled back to its normal steady pace when a faint glow appeared behind her.

She turned to find a small flame flickering in the palm of the fire-eater's hand, his daughter now cradled snugly in one arm. So all of the stories were true after all. Though she'd lived in Argenta for the past few years, she hadn't started working in the Castle of Night until after Dustfinger and the Blue Jay's adventures there had ceased. She hadn't been sure if she truly believed it until now.

A small whimper escaped the little girl in his arms as she pressed closer to her father, obviously not liking the darkness surrounding them even with the light her father had created. As he whispered soft reassurances to the child, Katerina slipped past him, leading the way down the tunnel, one hand trailing along the wall once more. Even though they were alone - she hoped - she kept her lips in a firm line, fearful of even Dustfinger's quiet words giving them away.

The passageway curved and straightened, seeming to take even longer to reach the end than it had on the way inside. Now that she'd actually acted on her plans instead of just thinking about them, everything seemed so much more dangerous and the desperation to get away from this place seemed to press in on her from all directions, helping the darkness to tighten the noose of fear that threatened to choke her.

She closed her eyes in relief as her fingers finally reached the wall at the end of the passage, just a bit of the fear seeming to lift away from her. Turning to Dustfinger, she motioned for him to extinguish the flame in his hand even though it meant they would be thrown into darkness for another moment or so. As soon as he did though, she opened the door, holding it so that it wouldn't open all at once until she was sure there was no one around to notice them. After a moment, she allowed the door to open the rest of the way, stepping cautiously outside and pressing her back against the cool stone as she waited for Dustfinger to follow.

As he stepped into the soft moonlight, she moved to close the passageway, but at the sound of many footsteps combined with the metallic sounds of armor and swords being drawn, she froze. No. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd been planning this since the night that poor little girl had first been brought back to this world; there was no way she could have gotten something wrong. How had they even found out what she was doing? She'd been so careful.

As the guards surrounded them, she shrunk back, closer to where Dustfinger stood frozen with Rosanna gripping him tightly. She could hear the soft whimpers of the little girl and the quiet, caution-filled response from her father, but she was too focused on the guards to really hear anything that was said. The gleam of the swords in the faint moonlight made them seem all the more sinister as the guards moved closer.

Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention, however. She finally tore her gaze away from the approaching guards, meeting the dark depths of the Fire-Dancer's, obviously as panicked as her own expression must have been. In an instant, the panic vanished, hardening into a deep determination.

"I'll be there in a just a moment, little one." He shifted his grip on Rosanna, a subtle plead for Katerina to understand his intentions as he pushed his daughter into the arms of a stranger.

Though Katerina's mind had barely finished processing his intentions, her body seemed to move of its own free will - pulling the little girl tightly into her arms even as she turned and raced between two of the guards. When the absence of a hand wrapping around her arm or a sword being pressed into her back became apparent, she felt a rush of relief that she'd acted so quickly. If she could just make it to the woods, they could hide until Dustfinger got away.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Katerina's steps faltered for a moment at the little girl's sudden cries - startlingly loud compared to how quiet she'd been moments before. She was forced to tighten her grip as Rosanna reached over her shoulder in the direction of her father, wriggling in an attempt to get out of the grasp of the arms that held her, carrying her further away from her father.

Loud shouts mingled with words that she couldn't make out echoed from behind her, but she didn't even so much as slow down despite the worry that shot through her. Were they yelling because Dustfinger had attacked them or somehow managed to get away? Or were the voices calling out in triumph over capturing - or worse yet, killing - an escaped prisoner that the Queen would have had them hanging for should he have escaped?

Her fears seemed to fade just a bit by the sight of the trees coming into her view at the bottom of the hill. She allowed herself to slow as she crossed the border of the woods, stopping to press her back to the trunk of a tall tree. Even as she fought to get some breath back into her lungs, throat burning with the effort, her hand instinctively ran over Rosanna's hair and back, a reflex from soothing countless night terrors and tumbles over nearly four years.

"It's alright, sweet one," she breathed, leaning her head against the little girl's dark curls. "Your daddy will be here soon and then you can go home."

Rosanna had just settled against Katerina's shoulder, her sobs softening to soft, shuddering cries when a rustling from the greenery before them made them both go silent. Katerina's blood seemed to harden into icy cold horror as Basta's smile appeared out of the dark shadows cast by the moonlight. She wrapped both arms tightly around Rosanna as he stepped closer, one of the Queen's soldiers right behind him, sword drawn.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Basta looked the two of them up and down for a moment, a confident smile on his face, sure that they wouldn't be able to escape him here. Without taking his eyes away from Katerina, he stepped closer. "Surely you're not trying to go against Her Majesty's orders, are you?"


	7. Chapter Six: A Hitch in the Plan

**Chapter Six**

A Hitch in the Plan

" **The whole thing is quite hopeless, so it's no good worrying about tomorrow. It probably won't come."**

 **~J.R.R. Tolkien; The Return of the King**

Her heart kept its racing beat as she watched him, mind racing to think of a way to get them out of here, but she knew the only direction to run would send them straight into the arms of many angered, armed soldiers.

"Do what you wish with the woman. But I want the child."

Her mind had barely registered the words when a hand tightened around the back of her neck from behind, the breath of a soldier she hadn't even sensed warm against her skin. Before she could react, the soldier in front of her reached out and snatched Rosanna out of her grasp, a cry tearing from her as the little girl's sobs returned, worsening as she was pushed towards Basta. For a moment, flashes of another night, another child, played through her mind, threatening to crush her rapidly beating heart with its intensity. No; this couldn't end as that memory had. There had to be something she could do, something someone could do, to save that poor baby.

The hand that had grasped her neck moved to join its partner that was now wrapped tightly around one of her arms, holding her back as she tried to step after Rosanna. Terror froze any other words from forming as Basta grabbed the child by her curls, yanking her toward him with such force that she stumbled before stopping in front of him, shoulders wracked with sobs as he drew his knife with his free hand, the blade glinting in the pale moonlight.

"The Queen won't be very happy with you, little handmaiden," he clucked mockingly as the soldier forced Katerina roughly to her knees. She stilled as she felt the tip of a sword press against the back of her neck, the threat of what would happen if she moved even an inch painstakingly clear.

"And you," he cooed to the little girl in his grasp, pressing the sharp blade of his knife beneath her chin. "We'll have to find a punishment for you too, _little one_. I'm sure they won't mind if I step in."

Katerina forced herself not to move as she watched the knife move to trail along Rosanna's cheek, obviously careful enough not to harm her, but it was certainly enough to terrify the child even more as she tried futilely to turn away from it.

"You, and your father too," Basta continued, holding the child's hair tightly. "You'll have to be taught that no one escapes the Castle of Night."

The last straw was when the soldier who had snatched Rosanna away began to chuckle softly at the fear on the little girl's face as she looked at Katerina, gaze pleading for her to save her.

"Stop it!" Katerina yelled, pulling against the soldier's grip, even as the tip of the sword's blade dug lightly into her skin. "Leave her alone. She's only a child."

The soldier yanked her back once more as the final word left her mouth, moving the sword in front of her to press against her throat as he held her against him, the first soldier moving to grip her arm with one hand, though it was nearly pointless. There was no way she could move now without risking an earlier execution than she already faced.

Rapid footsteps and crushed foliage suddenly grew near before Dustfinger burst into the small clearing. Dread filled her heart as she realized their only hope had just walked right into the trap obviously set for him. From where she knelt, she could only see his figure standing frozen in the edge of her vision, not his face. There was no way to see what he was thinking or how he was reacting, but the grin on Basta's face seemed to say it all as he spotted the Fire-Dancer. He seemed almost proud of his actions, though of course, he would be. From what she'd heard, Basta hated Dustfinger more than even Orpheus.

"Well, look who's come to join us," he said coldly, hatred seeming to come off of him in waves as he continued to smile at Dustfinger.

"Daddy!" Before he could continue his taunting, another voice - this one much higher pitched and filled with panic - interrupted him. Rosanna's small hands reached out to her father as she attempted to duck beneath the hand that held the knife so close to her face, completely forgetting for a moment that the opposite hand still had a firm grasp on her tight curls.

Before she could get further than a step, Basta yanked her back to him, pulling so hard that she cried out, stumbling back into his legs. Katerina's breath hitched as Basta placed his knife beneath the little girl's chin once more, causing a small whimper to escape the child as she gazed wide-eyed at her father.

"Try that again, you little brat," he growled, "and even Orpheus' orders won't stop me."

Forcing herself to take a breath once more, Katerina couldn't tear her gaze away from the knife under the little girl's chin, nearly forgetting the blade at her own throat in the process. Even as Dustfinger took a step closer, she could only see the movement of his hands rising in surrender out of the corner of her eye as he spoke.

"Basta, she's only a child," he pleaded. "You're going to take us back to the dungeons anyway; at least let her come to me."

A shiver ran down Katerina's spine as Basta gave a quiet chuckle in response to Dustfinger's words. For a moment, he only looked mockingly at the fire eater, but then, as if deeming that a response wasn't necessary to get the answer to such a request, he turned his attention to the soldier who had moved to uselessly grab onto her arm when she'd tried to rush forward.

"It doesn't take two of you to hold a handmaiden," he snapped, his gaze turning scorching as he jerked his chin towards Dustfinger. "Grab the fire eater. He's not getting away from me this time."

Dustfinger didn't move as the soldier took hold of him, pinning his arms behind his back with one hand, even as Rosanna's cries worsened. The child tried once more to go to her father, but Basta just turned in the direction of the castle, yanking her along with him fast enough to make her small hands fly up to where he still gripped her hair as another yelp escaped her.

The soldier holding Katerina finally removed the sword from her throat, though he kept it in his hand as he pulled her roughly to her feet. Tears began to stream freely down her cheeks as she was forced after the others, her heart aching for the small child as the woods echoed with her cries. Oh, those sounds threatened to pull her away once more - to memories that she couldn't bear to revisit just now, if ever again.

She stumbled up the hill after the others, careful to keep the same pace as the soldier leading her for fear of angering him while he still had a sword in his hand. She flinched as the soldier suddenly pulled her back before she realized they were once again standing in the dungeons that only a short time before she'd helped the fire eater and his daughter escape from.

She watched as Basta jerked his chin at the door that belonged to the cell in which Rosanna and Dustfinger had spent the past few days in, keeping his grip on the child as the soldier opened the door and moved to shove Dustfinger inside, neither Basta now the soldier holding her making a move to put them in the cell.

Her muscles tensed as Dustfinger fought against the soldier's grip, both of them seeming to realize at the same time that they would not be imprisoned together. The sounds of Dustfinger's struggle mingled with Rosanna's cries for her father and Basta's many threats as he tried to keep the desperate child in his grasp only made the situation seem that much more desolate. And she could only stand by and watch.

A gasp slipped past her lips as Basta pressed the knife against Rosanna's throat once more, this time forcing a few small drops of blood to fall onto the blade, causing the child's cries to soften to a whimper as she reached for her father.

Dustfinger froze immediately at the sight of the knife once again at his daughter's throat, all of the fight leaving him as he allowed the soldier to shove him into the cell without so much as a word. It seemed to do what he must have hoped, as Basta slowly pulled the knife away, though he made no move to let Rosanna go after her father as the soldier closed the door.

The instant the door slammed shut, closing Dustfinger off from his daughter, the poor child seemed to realize that she wouldn't be joining her father in the cell they'd once shared. Before she could try to twist out of Basta's grasp again, he dragged her down the hall, tossing her into an empty cell a few doors down, still close enough to Dustfinger for him to hear the way his daughter cried for him but not enough to where they could take comfort in each other's presence. He slammed the door shut, the clanging of wood and metal echoing over the quiet sobs of the little girl trapped inside, before turning to the soldiers with orders to make sure the fire eater and his daughter weren't able to speak a word to each other.

Katerina stumbled slightly as the soldier that still held her pushed her towards one of the empty cells separating Dustfinger and his daughter. She stepped in without an argument, despair stealing away any trace of the fight she'd still had left after all Argenta had done to her over the years. As the door shut behind her, followed by the clicking of the lock falling into place, she stepped to the back of the cell, sinking to her knees before pressing her back into the corner of the tight room. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she leaned her head against the wall with closed eyes, taking deep, shaky breaths as she tried to steady her rapid heartbeat.

She would die for this; there was no shred of doubt in her mind that the queen would have her hanging from the gallows by the time the next sun set behind the trees. She'd already been spared from death once before, on the night they'd taken the last piece of her heart away from her. They could have killed her then, but no; instead, they'd dragged her to this cruel place where she'd been forced to see so much suffering at the hands of Orpheus and his terrible words.

Even with these thoughts flooding through her mind, the exhaustion of all that had happened quickly dragged her towards the peaceful calm of sleep. A place where she would still occasionally see the pieces of her heart that she'd lost; pieces she just might see sooner than she'd expected if tomorrow went as she was so sure it would.


	8. Chapter Seven: Whispers and Screams

**Chapter Seven**

Whispers and Screams

" **I guess what scares me most now is the thought that I won't be able to protect you."**

 **~Julia Hoban; Willow**

It was the sound of quiet cries - the sound of his daughter's cries - that dragged Dustfinger from the deep sleep he had somehow managed to fall into. Panic rose up in him at the sound, urging his heart to beat faster until it pounded again his chest. He jolted upright, eyes darting around the cell in search of Rosanna's small form in the dim lighting, but she wasn't there. Fear and confusion filled his still sleep-addled mind until he finally remembered the events of the night before; the sound of Rosanna's cries, Basta's hand clutching her hair, his knife at her throat, drawing blood. Rosanna was in another cell now.

He pushed himself up to stand, walking towards the door that trapped him here and peered out the small window of metal bars positioned in the upper part of the wood where the guards could look in. Dustfinger couldn't even see his daughter out there, couldn't be sure she was okay. He turned, pressing his back against the door, silently cursing Basta, Orpheus, even Argenta's queen; anyone who had a hand in this.

Suddenly, other voices managed to reach his ears through the sound of Rosanna's persisting sobs; voices, laughter, the unmistakable tone of a man who wanted more than just friendship and a woman who seemed to want the same, and perhaps might just give it to him. It seemed as though the guard had been visited by one of the castle's women, most likely a handmaiden. Their only guard had left his post. Perhaps, without him posted between them, he could speak to Rosanna without the guard hearing over his own words and the woman's laughter, sounds that echoed loudly even down here.

"Rosie," he called softly through the opening in the door, making sure to keep his voice quieter than those of the guard and the woman. Rosanna's cries stopped, replaced for a moment by silence and then, the sound of small feet running across the cold stone floor and the gentle noise of her hands hitting the wood of her own door at the same speed.

"Daddy?" she called, imitating the softness of his words. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice. Whatever had made her cry while he slept, at least she was well enough to respond to him.

"I'm here, little one," he said, glancing in her direction through the small bars but he couldn't see much on either side, let alone his daughter or the cell that housed her. "You're not alone. I promise."

"Daddy," came the child's voice again and he couldn't miss the desperation and terror behind her words. "I'm scared, Daddy."

Dustfinger gave a shaky breath as her words reached his ears, every sound cutting into him. "I know, Rosie," he told her, eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to the cool metal of the bars. "It'll be alright. I'll see you soon."

He tried so hard to make his voice sound comforting, fearless despite his own terror, but even he could hear all he did not want to make known in his words. The thought of his baby trapped in that cell, scared and all alone though only layers of stone separated them, hurt him more than he could have imagined. He hadn't felt this kind of fear since his eldest daughter sat crouched and crying in the cage Orpheus had put her in, the Night-Mare dangerously close and ever threatening. Just like then, every part of him was screaming to go to his daughter, to protect her and take away her fear and the tears she cried, but there was nothing he could do this time. And now, even if he could, they would never escape on their own. They wouldn't even survive the attempt this time, he was sure.

"And then we'll go home? I want to go home," she whimpered.

Dustfinger nodded even though she couldn't see him. "That's right, little one," he agreed. "We'll go home and see Momma and Jehan and Brianna. And then you can run around the fields and play."

"I can show you all those pretty flowers that Momma grows." When Rosanna spoke again, he thought he could hear the slightest hint of a smile, and he managed to small smile in return, though it disappeared from both their faces as fast as it had come.

"I would love that," he replied, putting as much enthusiasm as he could muster behind his words, though he knew full well that the chance of getting back to the farm seemed relatively slim now. Guards would be doubled, if not more, after their last attempt to escape and they'd be monitoring the secret passages now too. Any attempt at escape would be futile, at least until he could come up with some sort of plan. For now, they were at the mercy of Basta and whoever he was serving under, to be used or killed as he pleased.

He didn't regret his decision to come here, not if he could see his Rosie again and offer her even a little comfort in this place, but for a moment, at the thought of never going home again, he almost couldn't breathe. Roxane. Brianna. Jehan. It was possible he would never see them again. He would be forced to leave them again, and this time, perhaps they would never forgive him of the sorrow they would feel.

Roxane would be hurt the most. She wouldn't have told Brianna about her sister, not wanting to give her false hope, but when the shock wore off, the hope she shielded her daughter from would make its home in Roxane's heart; hope that when Dustfinger finally returned to her again, he would be carrying their little one on his hip like he used to. If he couldn't get home, if he couldn't get Rosanna home, she would feel the pain of both their loses once again and that hope would break her.

"We have a baby goose too," Rosanna added, voice breaking for a moment, threatening the return of her tears. "I can show you her too. She's really cute."

Dustfinger gave a soft, half-hearted breath of a laugh at the thought of Roxane's ornery old guard goose being called 'cute' at any point of its life. "I would love to meet the goose too."

"She won't let me hold her though," she said. "I've tried."

"Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't," Dustfinger said, the image of Rosanna chasing a miniature version of her mother's goose through the yard behind the house playing through his mind. He could picture it all so vividly, Rosanna's voice mixing with the sounds of the goose's beating wings and the cackling she would give in protest as Rosie tried to convince her to come to her to no avail. But, of course, Rosanna wouldn't have given up so easily, wanting to bestow upon the creature all the love she felt for it. "But I'm sure you tried very hard."

"I did," she said, falling quiet again as the words passed her lips. The sound of her quiet sniffle sounding through the dungeon, reaching his ears yet again. Rosanna was crying again, though it almost sounded like she was trying not to. The cell suddenly felt too small, like the walls were closing in on him, and her too. Dustfinger needed to get out of here. He needed to get her out of here.

"Soon, little one," he said again, the resolve in his voice stronger this time though he was just as helpless to help her as before.

"I want you, Daddy," she cried, voice sounding even more desperate than it had. "I want you now."

"I know, Rosie," he said, forcing the words around the lump that had settled in his throat, making them quiet and hoarse. "I'll be with you soon, okay? I promise."

"You promise?" she asked through her tears, another sniffle following soon after the words.

"With all my heart, little one," he agreed, nodding futilely once again.

"Okay, Daddy. I'll see you soon." Her cries never lessened any, even as she spoke.

"I'll see you soon, Rosie."

"I love you." No sooner did the words pass her lips did the sound of footsteps draw nearer, echoing off the stone. Suddenly, Dustfinger realized that the voices and laughter had died down, leaving their words vulnerable and obvious.

The sound of an armored hand banging across the wood of the door reverberated through the whole dungeon, quickly followed by a short, shrill scream and the soft thud of the child falling backward, her cries returning in full. Dustfinger tensed at the sounds, his heart beating too fast in his chest.

"I love you too, Rosanna," he whispered under his breath, the words only soft enough to reach his own ears. 

* * *

The sound of footsteps, light and quick, echoed across the stone and roused Dustfinger at the too light attempt at sleep he had only just fallen into. He opened his eyes, peering at the door before him through the darkness. These were not the steps of their usual guards. These were lighter, coming without the metallic clanging of heavy armor. Another servant, perhaps, to bring them food or water?

It would be much appreciated. Neither he nor Rosanna had actually eaten since Katerina had snuck in the bread and he had been feeling both his hunger and thirst for some time. He couldn't even say anymore how long ago that had been. It was impossible to tell if it was day or night down here and he could not tell how long he had managed to sleep.

But when he heard the voice that came with the steps, Dustfinger knew it was no servant and any thoughts of food or water were instantly replaced by cold, numbing fear. Every muscle in his body tensed as if prepared for a fight, or perhaps it was in preparation for the pain he had come to associate with that voice, even after all this time.

"I'll be back for you," purred the all too familiar voice of Basta, the sound of his steps pausing as he said the words and resuming again right after, coming closer and closer towards Dustfinger's cell.

Dustfinger scrambled to his feet, though he kept close to the wall behind him, the chill of the stone mingling with the chill of his panic. There were few reasons that would bring Basta down into a place like this and none of them could be good. Basta stopped outside his door, quickly unlocking it and stepping inside, his knife in his hand and that chilling, sadistic smile plastered on his face. Dustfinger swallowed hard at the sight of him.

"Well, what do you know?" he said, his voice sounding far too pleased with himself to offer the Fire-Dancer any sort of comfort. "It looks like I'll be able to make good on my promises after all." He ran the blade of his knife through his fingers, emphasizing the threat. "I won't be starting with you, of course. But I'm sure you knew that."

Dustfinger could only stare wide-eyed at the blade as it passed through Basta's fingers, the fire-raiser's words ringing in his ears. I'll be back for you. Realization sent another jolt of fear through him. Basta had been talking to Rosanna. Rosanna, who was in another cell now, far out of Dustfinger's reach and with no one to protect her. Of course. Why would Basta punish him in ways he already had before when he could take out his anger on Rosanna and hurt Dustfinger in ways he never could before?

The thought of that knife anywhere near his daughter sickened him, his heartbeat quickening as his mind unwilling conjured images of his baby helpless in Basta's grasp, the knife biting against her skin. He could almost hear her screams and see the blood it would draw from her.

Basta chuckled at the desperation in the fire-eater's gaze as he turned to leave, pausing in the doorway to add, "Don't worry, Dustfinger. You'll get your turn." Leaving those words hanging in the air, he turned, locking the door behind him before the sound of his footsteps echoed in the air once again.

It wasn't until Basta had gone that the numbness seemed to wear off, leaving only the panic. Dustfinger moved forward, running the few paces to the entrance until his hands hit the door. Even through the window in the door, he couldn't see Basta but he could hear him stop and the sound of a key as it entered its lock. As soon as the door swung open, the hinges creaking loudly as they moved, Rosanna's cries began again, echoing across the stone until they reached her father's ears.

"No," Dustfinger breathed, pressing himself against the door as he strained to see what was happening but it was futile. He could see nothing of his daughter or the man who threatened her.

The sound of heavy, armored footsteps joined the noise, the sound coming to a halt in the same place Basta's footsteps had disappeared. "Grab the girl," the fire-raiser demanded. How many guards were there? Two, maybe three, from the sounds of it. The footsteps sounded again and suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the air.

"Daddy!" the child managed to call, over and over. Dustfinger could hear nothing anymore but her screams and the sound of his name.

"Leave her alone, Basta!" He practically begged over the heart-rending sounds of his daughter's terror. "She's just a child! She didn't do anything!" But if the fire-raiser heard him, he didn't respond.

Dustfinger couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The only thought in his mind being that he had to get to Rosanna. But he was locked in this cell, helpless to save the baby girl he was supposed to always protect. All the while, her screams echoed in his ears, the sound of his name, the small voice begging him to save her….

And then her screams changed. It was no longer just fear he heard in them, but pain. Excruciating, torturous pain. And then there was nothing, only silence, and Dustfinger's heart stopped.


End file.
